A Confession over Waffles
by Squirrelytaco
Summary: This is a sequel to The Git in the Sheet and the Angry Kitten. I Didnt really intend on continuing this story but hey when the muse inspires... so more Johnlocky goodness... im gonna leave this open incase i decide to continue... who knows...


A Confession over Waffles

John Watson was determined to get his waffles. So, after an exhilarating respite with a certain consulting detective, the two men found themselves in the dim light of Angelo's.

Sherlock had insisted Angelo would cook the two men whatever they wanted. When John asked if waffles were possible Angelo was keen to comply for his favorite 'couple.' Sherlock simply smirked smugly when Angelo agreed and paid no mind when the proprietor brought a candle to their table. John, however, blushed pink, though it was lost in the dimness of the restaurant. Sherlock had decided to indulge in a glass of fine red wine. (Only the best for Sherlock, Angelo insisted.)

The two men sat in companionable silence as Sherlock sipped his wine and John enjoyed a delightful cup of tea.

It was Sherlock that broke the silence. "John, might I ask what prompted this evening's activity?"

John took a casual sip of his tea, then, placed it back in its saucer with a soft clink. "Well, Sherlock," he said quietly. "You might recall what I said about my day?"

"What a ridiculous question, of course I recall," he rolled his eyes and brought his glass to his full lips and sipped casually.

"I was jealous of those pregnant teenagers and those, um, active older women. They were clearly getting… fulfillment."

"Yes, you mean sexually," he said rather loudly, as if they were talking about the latest football match or episode of _Doctor Who_.

"God! Yes, Sherlock, please, do keep your voice down." Sherlock rolled his eyes. John couldn't help but think for nearly a virgin the topic of sex didn't phase him too much.

"Well, John why on earth would you be jealous of pregnant fools and middle aged women with no sense enough to use protection?"

John rubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

"John you bring home willing young ladies often enough, shouldn't that have satisfied your urges?"

John groaned. "For a genius you are rather stupid where desire and affection are concerned."

Sherlock chose to sip his wine instead of offer a scathing remark. He knew this was true but did not want to concede the point. He was also confused about the events of earlier, but would never admit it aloud.

"Those people reminded me I wasn't enjoying what I was getting. Then I saw you standing there in your sheet, you git. You're brilliant, beautiful and mad…" he halted to look at Sherlock, whose face was a schooled mask of indifference. "I want you, you twat!" John almost shouted, just as Angelo brought his waffles. The man simply grinned as he sat the unusual fare before John. He then winked at the two men and left without a word.

"I see," Sherlock said placing his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers under his chin.

"Do you now?" John said, eating his waffles slowly, they were as good as he could have hoped.

"I had suspected, John," he said, his eyes now closed. "All those women and never staying with one. You seemed quite dissatisfied with any and all women around you."

John continued to eat his waffles and take the occasional sip of his cooling tea. He didn't bother to speak or look at his friend.

After several minutes of the sound of John eating beneath the flickering candlelight Sherlock spoke again, "I admit I'm not good with feelings of this nature." Sherlock's eyes were open watching again. His hands were still steepled beneath his chin.

John simply snorted and finished his waffles. He then sat back to let Sherlock continue.

"Since I met you I find myself… caring," He wrinkled his nose at the word and placed his hands in his lap.

John's eyebrows rose.

"I've never had anyone in my life so loyal and willing to suffer me as you do. I never thought someone could arouse me in that way." Sherlock creased his brows as if the words of the confession pained him. To John's surprise there were tears building in the younger man's eyes. "I enjoyed it John. Nothing has made my mind more blessedly numb but focused since my addictions. You are always encouraging me… there for me… helping me…" He trailed off. His eyes were still glazed with tears but being that this was Sherlock they remained unshed.

John was still flabbergasted. He hadn't expected a confession like this. He proceeded to pick up his tea and drain it. He then stood and offered Sherlock his hand. Sherlock's slender fingers wrapped around John's callused ones and he was pulled to his feet, partially by the smaller man's strength. John then grabbed Sherlock's scarf and pulled him into a semi-chaste kiss. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Angelo's face split in an enormous grin.

When John finally released Sherlock, the taller man's face was flushed. John's hand found Sherlock's and they walked out of the restaurant, little bell tinkling behind them. The two men walked hand in hand out toward the street beyond and hailed a cab to take them back to 221b Baker Street.

When they entered the foyer to their flat they were greeted by Mrs. Hudson. Their landlady, not housekeeper, immediately noticed their clasped hands. She smiled at them knowingly and said, "Finally came to your senses my boys?"

John blushed and said, "You might say that."

"Good for you dearies and me as well. The Detective Inspector owes me 50 quid! I knew you two were for each other." The older woman smiled and returned to her flat.

"Dear God, Sherlock, did everyone know?"

Sherlock shrugged and took his hand from John's to undo his scarf. "Perhaps Mrs. Hudson should be Detective Inspector," he deadpanned as he took the stairs to their flat two at a time with his long legged stride.

John couldn't help but admire the detective's long legs and rather pleasant bum as he followed him into their flat.

Sherlock divested himself of his scarf and trademark coat to lay them over the sofa's arm. He then sat next to them and crossed his remarkable legs and leaned on the soft fabric of the coat laden sofa arm. He looked at John then at the space next to him.

John took the hint and removed his coat, laid it on his armchair and joined Sherlock on the sofa.

Sherlock turned to John tentatively and kissed him slowly, placing his hand on John's thigh. After a few pleasant minutes he pulled back slowly, "John, I'm not sure how to proceed. Perhaps I should go to sleep." It was then that John realized how tired his flatmate looked. He stood and headed toward his room, as he began to open the door he realized John had not followed. "You may join me, John," Sherlock stated. John was surprised but stood and followed Sherlock into his room. "I would prefer to sleep, I need to process these events and feelings. I believe this would be conductive to the process."

"What?" John was confused.

"I wish for you to stay with me."

"In your bed?"

"Yes, John, is that a problem?"

"No, I suppose it's not."

Shelock stripped to his boxers then placed on his sleep trousers and a wrinkled white shirt. His suit lay sullenly on the hardwood floor. John removed his trousers and jumper leaving him in his boxers. He stood semi-self-consciously waiting for Sherlock's lead.

The tall, thin man twitched back the crumpled top sheet of his unmade bed and slid in gracefully. John crawled in and lay on his back to stair at the ceiling. He then got a shock when the lanky detective curled his cold thin frame next to his and fell asleep almost purring. John lay awake marveling at the turn of the day's events. He stroked Sherlock's dark hair softly. Soon he fell asleep, happier than he had been in a long time, especially considering his enraged state of mind mere hours earlier.

THE NEXT DAY

John awoke the next day as the sun wormed its way thru the curtains into his eyes. Sherlock's head was laying in the crook of John's shoulder. His long curly hair tickled the doctor pleasantly.

It was quite a new feeling to actually be glad to find a partner curled up next to him. Most of the time he simply wanted to extricate himself quickly and be off. His free left hand went to stroke Sherlock's sleep mussed hair. _By God but he is beautiful_, John thought. No one had ever brought out such feelings of love and a desire to protect quite like the man next to him.

He had tried for so long to emulate Sherlock and file away his feelings. That had been fruitless. As he stroked Sherlock's hair the detective stirred beneath John's touch and made a small mewling sound. He moved his head to look at John. John placed his hand on his chest.

"Thank you, John," Sherlock mumbled. "That was a most pleasant way to wake."

"You're welcome," John said looking into Sherlock's fathomless eyes.

The younger man took it upon himself to inch up to John's face, where he began to kiss him softly. His long fingers began to slide softly along John's chest.

John's hands inched their way to the hem of Sherlock's sleep rumpled shirt. He slipped his hand underneath to feel his soft skin and lithe muscles. He felt himself grow aroused as Sherlock deepened the kiss and moved his slender fingers to grip John's hips. John felt Sherlock's growing arousal brushing his thigh.

The two men kissed and enjoyed the feel of each other's bodies. Finally, Sherlock pulled back and shed his shirt. John took the opportunity to turn the tables and straddled the detective; their hard cocks rubbing together through the thin fabric of their clothes.

John started with Sherlock's lips, kissing them till they were red and swollen. He then proceeded to nip and suck on Sherlock's neck causing the man to wiggle his slender hips under John in an effort for more friction on his aching cock.

John kissed his way down Sherlock's pale chest to stop at the waist of Sherlock's sleep trousers. He slid them, and pants, down over the man's protruding hip bones to reveal his large arousal.

Somehow, John managed to ignore his own throbbing cock when faced with the beauty of his closest friend. His face was scrunched up in a mixture of arousal and confusion. It was clear to John the man was still learning to process such sensations. John smiled to himself and took Sherlock into his mouth. The younger man bucked his hips into John's throat, barely able to contain himself. He lasted longer this time, but lost it when John's fingers brushed his entrance. His cum was warm in John's mouth. The soldier swallowed it as the younger man sagged back into the mattress.

John crawled back up Sherlock's body and looked into his pleasure blown eyes. Then, to John's surprise, the thin man flipped him onto his back and had him divested of his boxers before the soldier could even blink.

"My, my, my Sherlock, enthusiastic this morning, are we?" John chuckled as the detective's dark curly head mimicked John's previous ministrations.

For someone learning the art of lovemaking, he had John squirming for release by the time the detective's full lips encased his cock. John watched as Sherlock's head bobbed up and down, lingering here and there to gently lick the hot slit of his cock. Sherlock's dark hair tickled John's pelvis pleasantly. Suddenly, Sherlock's right hand slid from its place on John's hip to gently stroke the shorter man's testicles. Soon, John felt the heat of release in his loins and came into the detective's waiting mouth. When the euphoria of orgasm passed John by he found Sherlock curled up against him, an arm over his chest.

"Now that, Sherlock, is a pleasant way to wake," John said and was greeted with a deep chuckle.


End file.
